


Lovely Girl, Won't You Stay With Me?

by stronger_than_she_knows



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Mention of past relationship, Rey doesn't want commitment, Soft Ben Solo, but she travels two hours on public transit, for that dick, inspired by a short film called "Long Branch", it's Rey with an E dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 01:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17798948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stronger_than_she_knows/pseuds/stronger_than_she_knows
Summary: Rey picks up Ben in a bar, with the hopes of having a one-night stand.Unfortunately, he isn't very good at those.She soon discovers that she isn't, either.





	Lovely Girl, Won't You Stay With Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Semperfidani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semperfidani/gifts).



> I wasn't sure what to rate this, so I hope T is good. 
> 
> This is a (late, sorry!) Valentines Day gift for [Semperfidani](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Semperfidani/pseuds/Semperfidani), who is always so supportive of my fics, a lovely friend and a real gift to the fandom. Check out her works, if you haven't already!

The late February sky is dyed amber and pomegranate, amethyst that bleeds into obsidian. The air is biting, even with a fire in her blood. Rey isn’t dressed for this weather in a knit dress, leather jacket, leggings and heels, but she presses herself closer to the man she’d just stumbled out of the crowded bar with. She'd had a few drinks to steel her nerves, and then asked if he wanted to get out of there. She hadn’t quite worked out where they were going yet, though. Drunk Rey is not a planner.

She is, however, a very lucky girl. Her mystery man is tall and broad, and feels like he’s made of stone, but she has him backed against the brick wall in the alley beside the bar, her hands in his ridiculously soft hair, and his own giant hands splayed across her back. Their kiss is sloppy and desperate, both a little drunk and uninhibited. Rey doesn’t care if he tastes like beer, she’s more focused on the hungry way he kisses her, like it’s _her_ he is intoxicated by. 

He groans into her mouth like this approximation of making out is something he’s craved for as long as she has. An itch _finally_ being scratched. She could get lost in the velvet nuances of his mouth and tongue, at least for a little while. 

It’s been so long since anyone kissed her this way, as if they couldn’t get enough of her. She’s nearly delirious with the high of it. 

And then her stupid phone is ringing in her purse, the familiar tune she’d once been excited to hear but which now feels like a bucket of cold water over her head. Annoyed, she pulls away from the stranger, yanks her phone out of her purse and declines the call. She is _not_ in the mood for _him_ right now _._

“Do you need to go?” The mystery man asks. She can hear the note of disappointment in his voice before she meets his sweet, doleful eyes. 

“No.” His eyes are a little glossy from alcohol, his cheeks pink from the cold, but _this_ man she _is_ in the mood for right now. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the relieved look on his face, or maybe she’s just feeling bolstered by the feeling of being wanted. Whatever the reason, she finds herself blurting, unceremoniously, “Do you want to fuck?” 

It’s exhilarating to watch his expression morph from a sort of drunken daze to a wide-eyed disbelief. His answer comes rushed and enthusiastic. “Um, yes. Yeah. That’s... Yes. I do.” 

The pink on his cheeks seems to have become brighter, and she can see it tinting the tips of his ears, peeking out from his thick disheveled hair. They are oversized just like the rest of him, but it makes him look more boyish and less intimidating. It’s cute. 

She grins at him, “Great. Can we go to your place? My roommate has his girlfriend over for Valentine's Day.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t sound so enthusiastic this time, and she frowns as he looks at the time on his phone, and then nods at her shoes. “Can you run in those?” 

They’re heels, and she only just started wearing them a few weeks ago when Rose gave her a pair for her birthday. Also, she’s dizzy and drunk, so, “No. Probably not. Why?” 

“We need to hurry. I’ll carry you.” 

<3

Navigating the city on the back of a stranger is definitely not how she envisioned her evening, but that is maybe the beauty of being single again. She has the freedom to do things when and where and how she wants. With whoever she wants. 

Like the man of steel she is clinging to like a baby koala, whose clothes she cannot wait to get under, whose hair smells like a heavenly mix of mint and lavender and sandalwood, despite having just left a bar. 

He carries her like she weighs nothing, and she quite likes the feeling of his strong arms tucked under her thighs, the rippling muscles she can feel with her hands pressed to his chest. 

He’s moving fast through the crowded side walk, and she closes her eyes and buries her face in his neck to try and ignore the nausea building at being jolted so much. 

“Mmm,” she giggles, “this would be a lot more fun if you were carrying me the other way.” He stumbles a bit when she nibbles on his earlobe. “Then I could rub against your--” 

“Don’t,” he hisses, nearly running into the back of someone. She smiles and starts trailing kisses down his neck, “How much farther?” 

“Not far.” It’s a vague answer but Rey goes with it, even as he turns towards the subway station. She can hold off for a _little_ longer, though she’s ready to go _right_ _now._

Sometimes, she decides, the wait is its own foreplay. The anticipation is exciting, the promise of what’s to come kept between them like a dirty secret. She likes the idea of knowing she'll have this man naked soon, that she'll get to see all these muscles up close, that she’ll know if he’s proportional. 

She's been _very_ curious. 

She certainly isn’t opposed to more kissing in the meantime either, so when he boards the subway and the train car is too crowded for her to sit next to him, she happily sits on his lap and picks up where they’d left off in the alley. 

Slow and sweet explorative kisses soon turn to fevered, hot, desperate ones. Drunk Rey isn’t a classy gal by any stretch, but she does know how to control herself. If they keep kissing this way, she’s going to want to get handsy. She pulls away and looks at the train car. It’s much emptier now than it was when they arrived. She isn’t sure how much time has passed, but it looks like they’ve made a few stops. “Where _do_ you live?” 

She doesn’t even know his name, but she can tell he’s hesitating to answer her. Finally, he admits, “Chandrilla.” 

“ _Chandrilla_ _?”_ Rey slides off of his lap, plopping down next to him on the bench. “Please, _please_ tell me you’re joking.” 

He runs a hand through his perfect hair, “I’m starting to wish I were.” 

“This is going to take like, _two hours_ ,” she huffs, disbelieving. “This was supposed to be _over_ in two hours. I was supposed to be leaving your place in a cab in _two hours_.”

“I’m sorry.” Why does he have to sound so sad? _God dammit._ She wants to be angry about this. She wanted a quick fuck, someone to have a good time with on this cursed fucking holiday, no feelings involved, no strings attached. 

Weren’t one-night stands supposed to be easy? 

“We can turn around if you want, catch another train back.” 

She glares at him, but it falters. Her eyes soften when she sees the worry in his. She’s sobering up enough to realize that maybe he doesn’t want to be alone on this day any more than she does. He doesn’t want her to leave and, in truth, she doesn’t want to leave either. She needs this, needs him. If only for a little while. 

“No,” she tells him determinedly, “We’re doing this.” 

<3 

They spend the next twenty minutes in a heavy silence. Rey’s phone rings again and she dismisses it, while the mystery man next to her idly scrolls through twitter on his. Her drunken buzz has long passed, and she’s sure his has too. She wonders if he’s regretting his decision now with his clarity restored, wonders if he’s wishing he’d been propositioned by someone else, wonders what he was doing so far from home in the first place. 

Then she stops herself. She doesn’t need to know. None of that information is necessary for what they’re doing. Knowing more about him would just make it too personal. This isn’t personal. This is just an extremely long detour to what she hopes is some really mind blowing sex.

An elderly man passes them, his arms full of single roses that he’s selling. The mystery man holds up a hand to stop him. “I’ll take one, for the lady."

“Oh, no,” Rey argues, “I don’t--” 

But it’s too late. He’s already paid for it.

“You don’t like roses?” 

“I do, but...it’s too romantic. This isn’t supposed to be romantic.” 

The mystery man nods and stuffs the rose into his coat, his jaw moving in a way that suggests he’s displeased. Then he asks, flatly, “Do I at least get to know your name?” 

“No,” she answers defensively, “And I don’t want to know yours either. Let’s just stick to the normal one-night stand etiquette, okay?” 

She has never in her life had a one-night stand and really doesn’t know what the etiquette is at all. She only knows how she’d _like_ for this evening to go, and though it’s so far been a disaster, using this time to get to know each other will probably only make it worse. 

The mystery man doesn’t seem to know what the etiquette is either, because he asks, “Do you have a lot of one-night stands?” 

“That’s too personal.” But she does wonder if _he’s_ ever had one. Now that she’s spent some time with him, he strikes her as too much of the romantic type. 

Maybe this was a mistake. 

She’s just gotten out of a relationship and a terrible one at that. She isn’t eager to jump back into anything remotely resembling a commitment. 

She doesn’t want to be alone tonight, but this is starting to feel like a lot of fucking work. 

<3  

The quiet ride on the subway turns into a quiet walk down a snow-covered street, with more snow falling steadily around them. She’s wearing heels and her feet are aching, her fingers are so cold they feel like they are going to fall off. They stop under the shelter of a bus stop, and she’s afraid to ask how much farther they have to go. 

“So,” he says, kicking at a spot on the cemented floor, “What did you have for lunch today? That’s not too personal, right?”

By this point, she’s thankful for the distraction from the cold and the possible frost bite in her fingers. 

“I had a salad.”

“So, you’re like...a vegan? That’s cool.”

Rey smiles a little. “Sure. If you don’t count the chicken, bacon crumbles, or the half a bottle of ranch dressing.” She shrugs, “I basically eat anything that can’t outrun me.”

That makes him smile, and it’s a nice smile. He hasn’t done it since she met him, but she finds it endearing. 

Which means she should stop looking at it. 

She rubs her hands together instead, in a failing attempt to warm them, her teeth chattering.

“Here,” she hears him say, “Let me help.” 

He unzips his jacket, and carefully wraps it around her, pulling her against his warm chest. He feels like a cozy fireplace. She wants to melt into him.

 “Better?” 

She looks up, meeting his eyes with a smile. “Much better.” 

Only, now that she’s looking at him, she can’t stop. She hasn’t really gotten a good look at him since she sobered up, but drunk Rey definitely did not have beer goggles. This man is every bit as gorgeous as he was at the bar. 

Pressed against him like this, she can’t help but wonder what he'll be like in bed (if they ever even make it there), if he'll be soft and gentle like he's been so far, or if he'll be rough. 

She's hoping for the latter, if only because she's afraid that the former might result in unwanted _feelings_. 

And speaking of unwanted feelings, her phone rings again as if on cue, and she pulls away from her human sized space heater to answer it. 

She feels a surge of anger and disgust at the name on her screen. Which is maybe why she answers the call with, “I ended things. I’m done with you. Why won’t you leave me the hell alone?”

On the other end of the line, Hux seems taken aback by her abruptness, but he presses on in a slur, “I just miss you.” 

“Because you’re drunk,” she retorts, irritated, “And lonely. I'm not being that person for you anymore, just because you’re feeling sentimental. Fuck off.” 

This time, she shuts her phone off completely, forcibly resisting a strong urge to throw it into the nearby wall. 

“Everything okay?” Ben asks. He speaks with the air of someone who is deeply concerned but also a little uncertain of how his question will be received. 

“You’re really bad at minding your own business,” Rey snaps, and instantly wishes she could take it back. She watches his facial expression arrange itself from wounded into a blank stoicism. The shift seems natural, like he's been doing it for a long time.  

It's heartbreaking. 

 _Why_ does this have to be so difficult?  

Poe does one night stands all the time, and he seems to really enjoy them. 

How is she so bad at this? 

When the bus arrives, the mystery man boards ahead of her, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket. 

The rose he bought her slips out as he walks, and she stops to pick it up, feeling like absolute shit. He's been so sweet to her, and she hasn’t deserved it at all. 

“It was my ex-boyfriend,” she tells him glumly, sinking into the seat next to him. 

He turns his head to look at her, his poker face waning again into something more somber. “Oh.” 

“I’m over him.” It feels important to say. She isn’t trying to sleep with strangers to forget Hux, she's just been lonely for a very long time. Even when she was with him, she never really felt appreciated. “We dated for six months and he couldn’t be arsed to remember my birthday or even how to spell my name right. He was a dick.” 

He always spelled it with an A and not an E, no matter how many times she corrected him. It was maddening. 

The man next to her is quiet for a moment, and he looks like he might be silently fuming, then he deflates. “Well, I don’t even _know_ your name.” It shouldn’t make her smile, but it does. 

“It’s Rey.” She's already gotten personal telling him about Hux, what’s one more piece of information? “Rey with an E in the middle.” 

“I’m Ben,” he offers, smiling, “Also with an E in the middle.” 

<3

From the outside, his house is a cute Craftsman style home, with a wrap around porch and pillars lining the entry. She doesn’t get a good look at the inside, though. The moment they are through the door she is on him, pinning him to the wall again and kissing him with a new found fervor. 

The sound of her unzipping her jacket is loud in the small foyer, and she lets it fall to the floor, followed by Ben's jacket, and she’s trying to tug his long sleeved shirt over his head when he stops her. 

“We’re still doing this?” She wonders, struck by the horrifying idea that maybe he's changed his mind. “Right?” 

“Yeah,” he answers breathlessly, “I just don’t want to wake up my parents.” 

Rey searches his eyes only to find that, no, this isn't his attempt at a joke.  

“It's okay,” he assures her, “I’ve got the whole basement to myself. They won't hear us. I’ll take you to breakfast in the morning before they wake up, they’ll never even know you were here.” 

“Look,” Rey says, suddenly feeling very tired and just…done. He is way too sweet for what she’s looking for. “You were supposed to be some random asshole who lived a few miles away in a shitty apartment. We we’re going to have dirty, no strings attached sex and then we were never going to see each other again. I didn’t expect…” she gestures around, “All of this.” 

“I know” he says softly, “Me either.” 

Somehow, she feels like they are talking about two different things. He sounds so dejected, like he knows what’s coming and wishes it weren’t. She can’t have wild sex with him in his basement with his parents sleeping upstairs. She can’t let him take her to breakfast in the morning like a gentleman, just to leave and never see him again. If they do this now, it’s going to mean something. 

Rey sighs, deciding finally, at the culmination of this strange night, to end it. “You’re too good for a one-night stand, Ben. You deserve better. I don’t want to do this anymore. I'm sorry.” 

She picks her jacket up from the floor, tears stinging her eyes. It's so ridiculous. She's come all this way to fuck him and now _she_ is fucked. She fucking caught feelings like she'd fought so hard not to do.

“Stay,” Ben pleads, as she’s shrugging her jacket on. “It’s been a long night. We’ll just sleep. I promise, I won’t touch you.”

“Ben—” She wants to. _God_ she wants to, but then she might not want to walk away in the morning, and that isn’t fair to either of them. 

“Please.” The word sounds so broken, and he's holding his hand out to her. 

Deep down she knows that this was never about the sex at all, but about two lonely people finding a solace in each other. 

She finds herself unable to refuse him. 

<3 

The basement is nice, if a little drafty. Rey crawls into bed beside Ben with only her dress on. 

He's wearing nothing but sweatpants, but even with a few feet of distance between them she can feel his warmth. She cuddles close to him, smiling as he turns and drapes an arm over her. 

He tilts his head down to kiss her goodnight, but she goes back for another kiss and deepens it. There is so much she wishes to say; how thankful she is for his kindness, how sorry she is to have been so guarded and rude, how scared she is that this might turn into something more, but how surprisingly hopeful it makes her to think that it could. 

Ben is special, but it bothers her now that she's been with him all night and has barely spoken to him at all.

“I want to know more about you,” she whispers. The words are weighty in the dark room, but she means them. She's never wanted to know anyone more than she wants to know him. 

“Well for starters,” he begins, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “I have a _really_ good memory, and I'm an excellent speller.” 


End file.
